Taylor is 17 years old now and apparently he sounds just like me. Even to his friends. Today I had another of his buddies call and when I answered the phone he said, "Is this Taylor?" No, it's not. I'm not sure what to make of it. Flattered that I sound so young? (If only I looked so young.) Or embarrassed that I sound like a teenager? I still only shave once a week, so I guess in that sense I'm kind of teenagery. But hey, at least I don't have to shave my back. (Editor's note: No way. Are you really going to print that? Author's reply: Believe me, I'm proud of it. So yes, it's staying in this blog.)
At the ripe old age of 40 I can still hold my own in Wiffle ball, hoops and other assorted sporting endeavors with these young shavers, so to speak. (I just try and steer clear of exhibiting my blazing speed in the 40-yard dash. The last time I tried that I pulled a hammy.) So here's what I'm going to do to distinguish myself from Taylor on the phone. I'm going all-husky voice. Barry White, look out. James Earl Jones, you got nothing on me. I'm going deeeeepppp. Kind of a Darth Vader type voice, except in a friendly, neighborly way. Without the breathing thing. Mark my words, from now on there will be no mistaking me for Taylor. Voice wise at least.